


The Woods on a Spring Evening

by earthspirits



Series: The Travels of Mad Sweeney & Laura Moon [3]
Category: American Gods (TV), American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Beltane, Campfire, Camping, Consensual Sex, Cthulhu Mythos, Dangerous men, Declarations Of Love, Emotional hurt / comfort, F/M, H.P. Lovecraft, Horror, Ireland, Laura McCabe Moon - Freeform, Laura Moon x Mad Sweeney, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Horror, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Mad Sweeney - Freeform, Medieval Ireland, Original Character(s), Original Female Character - Freeform, Protectiveness, Reincarnation, Road Trip, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Soulmates, The Celts, True Love, cthulhu - Freeform, gaelic, karmic love, living dead, love with a dangerous man, mad sweeney x laura moon, mad wife, madwife, madwife true love, redeemed bad boy, reincarnated lovers, sexual magic, sexual situation, soul searching, star crossed, star crossed lovers, true love marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-01-24 14:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18573346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthspirits/pseuds/earthspirits
Summary: When Mad Sweeney embarks on a dangerous plan to save Laura Moon, it could cost him his life - and his very soul.  But he'll dare anything for the woman he loves.Please Note: The stories in my AU Sweeney and Laura series are all connected, and designed to be read in order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Contains S1 and S2 spoilers.
> 
> Ratings / Warnings: Mature 18+ - Sexual situations, strong language, consensual sex between soulmates. Also features horror, gore, some violence. Some of this may possibly be triggering.

"I was never a leprechaun," Sweeney repeated patiently. "That was just part of the curse." He could feel Laura's eyes boring into him, but he couldn't take his off the narrow road that twisted high up into the hills. Below them, the earth fell away, a terrifying drop straight down to the gleaming curve of the river, a hundred feet below. It was raining, and the cloudy sky was grower darker. It would be night soon.

"I know, I know...you were some sort of king - or was it a demigod?" She sounded annoyed, but he could sense the very real fear her attitude masked. Baron Samedi's spell was starting to wane. Nervously, she brushed away a couple of flies that were hovering near her face. "So, Your Majesty - does that have anything to do with where we're going?"

"It does in a way."

Laura just snorted, and closing her eyes, leaned back in the seat. They had been traveling for more than a week, staying off the grid as much as possible, in an effort to avoid detection by Wednesday and the other gods. The road climbed higher and higher, until it reached the top of a heavily wooded ridge, and the pavement abruptly switched to a rutted dirt track. As the car jolted along, Sweeney dodged another pothole. He hoped like hell the old jalopy wouldn't bottom out before they reached their destination. The window was rolled down, and he could smell the rain. It was full dark now, and he clicked on the headlights. As he drove deeper into the forest, the road, such as it was, grew narrower still, the trees on either side scraping against the sides and roof of the car. He risked a glance at his companion. She appeared to be sleeping, but he knew she was awake. He could still sense her fear, hovering over her like a miasma. It was a fear he shared - which was why they had taken this little detour into the wilderness.

"You're been driving for miles through these woods," Laura suddenly commented. "Do you actually know where the fuck we're headed?" 

"I know this area like the back of my hand. Relax, we're almost there."

He slowed, as a strange iridescent fog appeared, hanging like a curtain over the road. As they passed through it, Laura felt a shift in pressure, and her ears started to pop. They emerged into a large grassy clearing, ringed by dripping evergreens. The car glided to a stop. Ahead of them, outlined in the headlights, was a tumbled ruin. Incredibly ancient, it was constructed of enormous stone blocks that glistened in the rain. Some of them had been carved with runes and strange inhuman figures. She peered through the windshield. "What the hell is that?"

"Once upon a time, this was a temple to the Old Ones," Sweeney replied. His tone was casual, but held an underlying tension. "It was built on a very powerful ley line."

"Ley line?"

"The ley lines are the magnetic energy grid that encircles the earth. Where they intersect are places of power, hence why the ancients constructed their temples and churches over them." He switched off the engine and headlights, plunging the ruins into darkness. "Some, like this one, are also portals to other dimensions. There are many scattered throughout the world."

"Thanks for that teachable moment," Laura said dryly. "I'd no idea you were such a nerd."

Sweeney rolled his eyes. "When you've been around as long as I have, you learn a few things."

"Well, it all sounds fucking weird to me."

"And when isn't life weird?"

"Touché." She cocked her head, staring bemusedly at the barrier they'd just driven through. "That fog's pretty freaky too."

"Those that built the temple hid it well. Not many can find their way through the mist." He opened the door, glancing up at the sky as he stepped out. The rain was finally abating, and a hint of stars shone through the clouds. "We can discuss all this later. Right now, I need to set a protection spell around our camp."

"You do spells?" 

The Irishman winked at her. "Watch and learn, Dead Wife." He knelt, and taking a piece of chalk from his jacket pocket, began to draw a line upon the ground. The chalk smeared a little, due to the wet grass. Laura perched herself on the hood of the car, observing his progress as he carefully made his way around the perimeter of the camp. As he worked, he muttered continually to himself in Gaelic. The circle finally completed, he dusted his hands off on his jeans, and walked around to the back of their vehicle. "We can set up camp now," he said, unlatching the trunk. "And remember - no matter what happens - don't leave the safety of the circle."

****

Their tent was erected, and Sweeney had somehow managed to coax a fire from the damp branches he'd collected from the clearing. He and Laura were seated close together, on an old log. The Irishman poked the flames with a stick, and a cascade of sparks flew up into the darkness. A pot of tinned beans simmered gently on the fire. He'd added cinnamon and brown sugar from their supplies, and the enticing aroma made his mouth water. There was also bread and a cooler of beer.

Laura, wrapped in an old plaid shawl they'd found in the car, leaned against his shoulder. Her eyes kept straying to the abandoned temple, lurking in the shadows beyond the protective barrier. Something about it made the hair on the back of her neck rise. "These builders - were they Native American? Or your people, the Celts?"

Sweeney took another swig of beer. "Far, far older. They predate everyone. And they weren't human - they came from the stars." 

"Curiouser and curiouser," she murmured. Suddenly chilled, she pulled the shawl a little tighter. "So, how do you know all this?"

"About a hundred years ago, I chanced upon this place, and encountered one of the Old Ones. I was lucky to escape with my life.” He set the empty bottle down on the log, and turned to her. "After that, I made it my business to find out all that I could about them. Long ago, they nearly destroyed their worshippers. Those that survived fled this world, but the creatures they invoked still linger. They're powerful and extremely dangerous - even Wednesday fears them, and with good reason."

"I find it hard to believe that Wednesday would be afraid of anything. He's a pretty cocky bastard."

"In comparison to the Elder Gods, that fucker's a mere child. But enough of him." He ladled some of the beans onto a tin plate, and handed it to Laura, along with a spoon.

She blew on the beans to cool them and took a bite. "Mmmm, this is good, thank you." She glanced up, her expression curious. "What's this really all about - Why are we here?"

"This particular site is a nexus of raw power - likely because of its proximity to a portal. If harnessed properly, enough to raise the dead." He let that sink in. 

Laura looked skeptical. "I see - and how exactly would that work?"

"We'll need to perform a ritual, which must be concluded tonight, just as the midnight hour strikes."

"Sounds very mysterious. Why tonight?"

"Tis May Day." He piled beans on his own plate, and then dipped a piece of bread into the mixture. As he chewed, his eyes met Laura's.

"What? Workers of the world unite?"

He shook his head, and chuckled.

"You're being awfully cryptic, Sweeney." She dug into her beans, and almost absently, swallowed another mouthful.

"May Day - or Beltane, as my people know it - is one of our most sacred festivals. 'Tis a celebration of life and fertility."

"Fertility, eh? What is it with you gods and fucking?" Samedi's truth spell had turned into a sex rite too. He had said two drops of true love's blood would supposedly restore her to full life. But perhaps this might offer a more reliable alternative. 

"Aye, there be fucking involved. Beltane was always a night for lovers." He smirked. "Surely you've no objections to that?"

"None at all." She smiled and gently ran a finger down his nose, lingering for a moment on that little dip on its bridge. "Hot sex is great, but I still don't see how that ties in with all this."

"Sex is a primeval drive, lass. The psychic energy it generates in ritual is immense - doubly so, when conducted at a power site. And that power can be used to heal, if you get my meaning." He gazed into the fire, his face suddenly wistful. "It was on Beltane that I first met my wife."

To her surprise, the thought of Sweeney having a wife felt like a knife in her heart. "I didn't know you were married. Is she - still alive?" A ridiculous question, considering his age, but perhaps the wife was also a demigod.

His glance shifted, settling on her. "In a way," he said enigmatically. He set down his plate, and reached for her hand. "I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just focus on saving you."

"All right, Sweeney. But say we actually do this...ritual...and invoke the Old Ones. You said they're dangerous. That can't be good."

"For good or ill, once the rite starts, there's no turning back. The energy we'll raise will automatically open the portal, and let us tap its power. But it will also allow entry to whatever waits on the other side. And that's where the danger lies. But it's worth the risk, if it gives you back your life."

Laura frowned. "I'm already dead - not much more they can do to me."

"You don't want to know what they can do, even to you."

"Don't risk your life, Sweeney - not for me." She laid her plate on the ground, suddenly sick to her stomach. What would she do if something happened to him? It didn't bear thinking about.

"Not for you to decide, mo chroí (my heart)." He lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "Besides, what other choice do we have? Now, get some rest, I'll wake you when it's time."

As Laura lifted the tent flap, she glanced back over her shoulder. Sweeney was again staring into the flames. There was such an air of tragic nobility about him. Was he remembering his wife - or contemplating the horror of the Old Ones? She wasn't sure which she found more heartbreaking.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sweeney prepares for the arcane ritual that will open the portal of the Old Ones, he remembers another Beltane night, centuries ago - when he lost his heart to the woman who would eventually reincarnate as Laura Moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Contains S1 and S2 spoilers.
> 
> Ratings / Warnings: Mature 18+ This chapter features consensual sex between soulmates, strong language, and a little recreational drug use. There are also references to horror and potential violence. Some of this may possibly be triggering.

Sweeney thrust a partly smoked joint between his lips, and lit it. As he inhaled the aromatic herb, his glance flickered to the temple. He could sense the foul presence of the Old Ones just beyond its ruined stones, pressing against the very fabric of space and time. 'Twas there they had almost devoured him, a century ago. The Irishman took another hit, and thought of Laura. He hadn't been completely truthful with her about the potential hazards of the rite. While his godly aura should shield her from the Old Ones when the portal opened, those that entered would be frenzied sharks scenting blood - his blood. He wasn't sure even the circle could keep them from him. But while they were busy feasting on his soul, the portal's energy would flash into Laura and heal her. He'd reasoned that the resulting power surge would be so immense it would propel the things back to the hell they came from - hopefully without him. Or at least, that was the theory.

He turned his head and gazed thoughtfully at the tent. Laura would be asleep, curled up in their sleeping bags, which had been zipped together. He envisioned her slim body, the delicate bones like those of a bird, all tension finally soothed from her face. He thought of the trusting smile she gave him when they made love. She _must_ live - truly live. If he didn't survive, so be it. Tossing the spent joint into the fire, he rose to his feet. The flames were dying down - he'd have to do something about that, as fire was an important part of the ritual, but also a strong protective measure. As he gathered fallen branches, his mind drifted back to that long ago Beltane, when he had first met his beloved.

*****

Smoke from the bonfire rose into the air, mingling with the scent of hawthorn blossom. Trestle tables, laden with great platters of food, and lit by the glow of tallow candles, had been set under the trees. The sacred grove was crowded, his people in a joyous mood, as befit this festival night. Dancers wove around the fire, accompanied by the cheerful playing of the court musicians. There was feasting and plenty of mead, all punctuated by raucous laughter and shrieks of merriment. Some couples had already sauntered off to more private areas, to enjoy a bit of lovemaking. Also in attendance were dignitaries from a neighboring kingdom. Suibhne was well aware they were hoping to cement a trade agreement by arranging a state marriage between him and their princess, a sour-faced maiden of twenty. He had offered her every courtesy, but had no intention of being alone with her. Especially not on this night, when those so inclined paired off for the spring fertility rites. 

His glance shifted to another young woman who sat nearby. They'd been introduced when she and the other guests had first arrived at his castle, just as the sun was setting. She was cousin to the princess, and her name was Ciara MacCaba. Unlike the others in her party, she was clad as a warrior, with a fitted cuirass of dark green leather over a brown woolen gown, and leather gauntlets on her wrists. Her eyes were watchful, and he noted with interest that she wore a sword sheathed at her side. There'd been many maidens vying for his attention that evening, but he had eyes only for her. Limned by firelight, she flashed a cheeky grin at him, and his heart was utterly lost. He moved to her side, ignoring the hostile glances of the princess and her uncle, an elderly grand duke. "I trust you're having a good time, my lady?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Aye, Your Majesty." She looked him up and down, obviously pleased by what she saw. "And now perhaps, I think an even better time is at hand."

"Please, let us dispense with formalities. I am Suibhne." He bowed. "Would you care to join me for a stroll?" 

"I can think of nothing I'd enjoy more... _Suibhne_." As Ciara rose from her seat, she bestowed another enchanting grin. She was a little thing, barely reaching his shoulder. But beneath her seeming delicacy, he sensed a core of pure steel. As they moved away from the royal dais, the princess glared at her cousin's back, her expression even more sour than usual.

In the darkness, Suibhne and Ciara could hear the lustful cries of other couples, all celebrating the festival with giddy abandon. Hand in hand, they walked for some time, deeply content with each other's company in a way that surprised and delighted them both. Finally, at the heart of the grove, they stopped beneath an enormous oak tree. Great clumps of mistletoe grew in profusion over its branches, ghostly in the moonlight. Ciara leaned against the oak's ancient trunk, her dark hair curling across its furrowed bark. She looked like a nature spirit, sprung directly from the earth. Wordlessly, she held out her arms to him.

Suibhne swept her into an embrace. "Mo cheann álainn (my beautiful one)," he murmured, holding her close. And so it was that the two of them consummated their love. Ciara matched his every move, his every caress, with a wild sweet tenderness of her own. Afterwards, they lay naked on his cloak, her head pillowed on his shoulder, his arm around her waist. Their swords were nearby, but their garments had been strewn haphazardly across the grass. As they gazed up at the sky, he pointed out the constellations. How faraway they seemed, so cold and sparkling.

"Is breá liom tú (I love you)," he murmured. "An bpósfaidh tú mé? (Will you marry me?)."

She ran her fingers through his long red hair, and smiled. "Is é mo fhreagra ná mo ghrá (My answer is yes, my love)."

"Ní ghlacfaidh fiú na déithe liom mé (Even the gods will never part me from you)." Reverently, he kissed her. But the gods, as always, had other plans. 

*****

Sweeney piled more wood on the fire, watching as the flames leapt and crackled, reaching towards the heavens. Around him, the forest was peculiarly silent, not an owl, or even the wind, to disturb the air. For a long while, he just stood there, staring into the darkness, the evil presence of the temple seeping towards him. Despite the flames, the night was growing colder. Finally, he heaved a sigh. It was time to wake Laura, and begin the ritual.

Quietly, he entered the tent. Laura was scrunched down in the sleeping bag, her hair a feral tangle around her face. He could hear the peaceful sound of her breathing. Sweeney knelt beside her, his expression anguished. How he longed to tell her _she_ was the wife he'd lost, and had never stopped loving. But such disclosure was forbidden by the curse. She must discover this truth on her own, or not at all. He shook her shoulder. "Wake up, lass." 

Her eyes opened. "Sweeney - I was dreaming of you." 

"Were you then?" He brushed a few strands from her brow. "I hope it was a pleasant dream." 

"Oh, it was." Laura yawned, and slowly sat up, all the while stretching to ease the kinks from her back. "I dreamed we were fucking underneath a big oak tree. You looked a little different, though - your hair was really long." She grinned. " _Very_ hot."

"Well, I'm glad I met with your approval," he said lightly. But surely that dream was no coincidence?

"Is it time?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Clad only in her underwear, she slid out of her cozy nest into the chill air. As she cast around for her tee shirt and jeans, she glanced worriedly at him. "You okay?" 

He smiled tightly. "Aye, as good as can be expected."

"We don't have to do this - we can find another way."

From outside, came a strange otherworldly wailing. "Too late. The Old Ones have already sensed us, and are even now, battering at the portal, clamoring for entry. It's best we open it ourselves, else they'll burst through on their own, and our one chance will be lost."

Laura reached for his hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Everything will be all right, Sweeney - we'll get through this somehow. We always do." As they stepped out of the tent, she gave him a reassuring smile. He was touched by her belief in him - he just hoped like hell it wasn't misplaced.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ritual has commenced, and the portal opens. As a horrific menace invades the temple glade, Sweeney and Laura must battle for their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Contains S1 and S2 spoilers.
> 
> Ratings / Warnings: Mature 18+ This chapter features consensual sex, strong language, horror, gore, and violence. May possibly be triggering.

The wailing had increased in volume, and as Sweeney peered uneasily at the temple, he tightened his grip on Laura's hand. In the dim moonlight, he could just make out a darker shadow amidst the shadows of the ruin. A blot upon the carved stones, the shadow seemed to move, bulging alarmingly outward, as if something enormous was pushing against it, from the other side. His mouth tightened. He knew all too well what monsters sought entry.

"How do we - um - perform the ritual, with that going on?" Laura asked. She was tempted to cover her ears, but instead forced a smile. "Kind of a mood killer, don't you think?" She laughed nervously. Who was she kidding? She was fucking terrified.

"Just look at me," he replied softly, placing a hand on each side of her face. "Don't think of anything else." 

Laura glanced up, and for just an instant, another image was juxtaposed over Sweeney's features - the same man, but slightly younger, his bright hair falling past his shoulders, a royal diadem shining upon his brow. What did it mean? But as he kissed her, the vision quickly faded. She curled her arms around his neck, and stood on tiptoe, pressing against him. He swung her into his arms, and carried her closer to the fire. Gently, he laid her on the old stadium blanket he'd spread on the ground, and then stretched out beside her. Laura unbuttoned his jacket, then his shirt, her questing fingers skimming lightly across his bare chest, tracing the outline of his pectoral muscles. As she reached lower, dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans, she felt him shiver beneath her touch.

With a low groan, Sweeney pulled her close. He pushed up her tee shirt, exposing her breasts, and with exquisite tenderness, kissed first one, then the other. Aroused, Laura's breath quickened, even while she kept stroking him. The warmth of the fire washed over their entwined bodies, taking away some of the chill of the spring night. She clung to him, savoring the feel of his hands and lips, until finally, his cock pierced the warm sweetness of her core. Buried to the hilt, he began to move, his thrusts growing steadily fiercer. As their passions soared, the keening of the Old Ones grew, veering into a range impossible for the human ear to hear, the vibrations as agonizing as the slash of a knife. Ignoring the pain, he concentrated only on Laura. He could feel their combined sexual power building, expanding in a glittering stream towards the temple.

Careful not to crush her beneath his weight, Sweeney stared into Laura’s eyes, and with one last powerful thrust, surged forward, tipping her into ecstasy. As his seed poured into her womb, the two of them cried out, swept along by the intensity of their shared pleasure. At that exact moment, the ruin exploded outward in a blaze of light, tossing huge chunks of broken stone across the clearing. A few of the smaller pieces fell within the circle. He flinched, as one grazed his shoulder. It sizzled with unearthly heat, burning through his clothing, to the skin beneath.

Light continued to pour through the rift, dazzling as the aurora borealis. Laura, still clasped in his arms, screamed as it struck her. For a few seconds she glowed, as if lit from within, her hair whipping around her face as the surge of preternatural energy infused every cell, returning her to full life. She coughed several times, and his lucky coin tumbled from her mouth. As the radiance faded from her body, she gazed up at him, her eyes wide and frightened. Her skin, where it touched his, was fever-hot. Shielding her with his body and aura, Sweeney watched as a shadowy mass slithered through the crack between worlds, spreading towards them like an oil slick on water. With it came a peculiar stink, like seaweed rotting on the shore.

The creature was immense, well over twelve feet tall. It staggered upright, its huge head turning from side to side, as if scenting prey. The beady eyes shone like opals against its moist green hide, the rest of its "face" (if such it could be called) composed of dozens of squirming tentacles. Half hidden within their coiling depths was a slit of a mouth, which opened and closed, like a gasping fish. He caught a glimpse of needle-sharp teeth. So much for his theory, he thought grimly. The energy over-load hadn't sucked it back through the portal - instead it was staying for dinner.

"What the fuck is that?" Laura gasped. At the sound of her voice, it began to shamble across the glade. It moved slowly, but with horrible purpose, rudimentary wings fluttering like pennants. 

"Tis an Old One," Sweeney said. "But a youngling of their kind."

"Are you telling me that - _thing_ \- is a - baby?"

"Aye - and even so, incredibly dangerous. If it can, it'll devour us both - body and soul." Disentangling himself from Laura, he rose and quickly heaped branches on the fire. As the flames crackled, rising in a golden column against the darkness, their enemy halted, suddenly wary. The Irishman cursed, as he realized its unwinking stare was focused on Laura. He had counted on his godly aura shielding her from its awareness, but this clearly was not the case. Brimming with fresh new life, she was as irresistible as candy to the Old One. It was almost slavering in its eagerness to consume her. And when it was done with her, it would take him. 

It lurched forward, its desire for Laura stronger than its fear of fire. As the creature neared the circle, it gave a shriek, and drew back. Agitated, it paced just outside the chalk lines, so close he could see the scales glinting on its obscene body. Ah, so the magic did hold it at bay. Well, at least _that_ part of his scheme had worked. As he zipped up his fly, his eyes narrowed. He'd have to lure the fucker back through the portal. Once there, the gate would automatically close, sealing the Old One in its own dimension. Last time, he'd survived the ruse - tonight he might not be so lucky. But at least it would save her, and that's all that mattered.

He turned to Laura and embraced her. "Whatever happens, stay within the circle."

She understood at once. "Don't go!" She clutched his arm, staring up into his face. "Can't you just cast a spell to make it leave?"

He shook his head. "Once perhaps, but it's been ages since I had that sort of power. We're safe now, but the circle will eventually wane. When the Old One realizes that, it'll charge - and then it'll be all over." For a long moment, Sweeney returned her gaze, his eyes expressing all that he could not. He smiled crookedly. "After all this trouble, I'll not have you dying on me." He bent and picked up his coin. "Keep this," he said, handing it to Laura. He wrapped her fingers around the coin, and kissed them. "I don't need it anymore - You're my luck now, mo stór." (my treasure).

"No, Sweeney," she began, and then felt his lips on hers. And with that, he stepped over the line, careful to keep several feet between him and his foe. As he'd hoped, the brute started towards him, enticed by the scent of his aura. He sprinted across the clearing, the Old One in pursuit. Its movements were ponderous, but oddly fluid. As Sweeney ran, he shouted a taunt: "Lean mé, is gránna tú!" (Follow me, you ugly bastard!)

A tear ran down Laura's cheek. Angrily, she wiped it away. This was not the time to blubber. She was mortal now, but damn it, she wasn't helpless - and there was no way in hell she'd let that monstrosity kill Sweeney. She tucked the coin in her pocket. Perhaps it would grant her a little luck. Tearing a strip from the ragged blanket, she wrapped it around her hand, before carefully reaching into the fire. Even through the protective cloth, she could feel her skin blistering. Gritting her teeth, she retrieved a flaming branch, and hoisting it aloft, crossed the circle. 

The Old One closed in on Sweeney, raking razor-edged talons across his left shoulder. Blood welled from the wounds, seeping through his shredded clothing. Inflamed, the creature bent low, intent on dragging this tasty tidbit towards its open maw. As its claws dug into him, the Irishman let out a yell, and swung his fists, punching it again and again in the head. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied Laura racing towards him. Brandishing the impromptu torch, she was screaming like a banshee. As she neared their adversary, she thrust the torch at its face. Tentacles badly singed, it emitted a shrill screech, and dropping its prey, hurriedly backed away. Unsure who to attack, it glowered balefully at the humans.

Abruptly, it lunged at Laura. Startled, she dropped the torch, falling backwards as the thing swiped at her with its claws. Sweeney grabbed a rock and hurled it with all his strength. It glanced off the creature's misshapen skull. With an outraged hiss, it swiveled in his direction. He threw another rock. It bounced harmlessly off the thing's scaly torso, but certainly served to get its attention. Facial tentacles writhing in anticipation, it lumbered towards him. Sweeney glanced at Laura. She'd retrieved the torch, intent on launching another attack. Truly, the lass had the heart of a lion. But for all her bravery, she was one small woman against an Elder God - and she no longer possessed the power of the undead. If it caught her, it would drain her like a husk.

Determined to keep the creature away from Laura, Sweeney picked up a piece of shattered masonry that had broken off one of the temple's stone blocks. Deeply incised into its front was a line of runes. Gesturing for Laura to keep back, the Irishman took aim, and flung his missile. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the Old One collapsed, yellowish-green ichor pouring from a gaping wound between its eyes. It lay motionless, a fallen giant. 

Relieved, Laura rushed to Sweeney's side. "Is it dead?"

"I think so." Cautiously, he approached, and poked it with his foot. It didn't stir. And then the ground suddenly shook. Powerful vibrations emanated from the ruins in an inaudible howling that pierced him to the bone. He doubled over, gasping from the pain. With a grimace, he straightened, and turned towards the portal. Something gargantuan loomed in the opening, light streaming around its bulk, like foam breaking over the gnarled back of a whale. 

Agonized by the vibrations, Laura struggled to stay upright, barely holding onto her torch. "Another young one?"

"Worse." His expression was grim. "Tis its mother." A gigantic shadow fell across them as it squirmed through the opening. Twice the size of its offspring, the Elder God towered above the trees, an entity straight from nightmare. As it caught sight of its dead young, it roared aloud, and spread its wings wide, a leathery curtain shutting off the light. It glided forward, and the earth once again shook.

"Look away!" Sweeney suddenly cried. He stepped in front of Laura, blocking her view of the monster.

Puzzled, she stared at him. "Why?"

"If a mortal gazes at an Elder God for more than a few minutes, they go mad," he said flatly. "Tis their innate power."

"But we both looked at the young one, and we're okay." Nevertheless, she turned her head away. Her stomach roiled, soured by fear and the high-pitched keening of the Old One.

"Only the mature adults have that effect." He'd an inkling of a plan - something she'd said earlier had suggested it. "Bring the torch nearer," he added. "I need more light." His eyes scoured the ground, seeking another chunk of temple stone. He picked a few up, quickly examining, and then tossing them aside. All the while, he could hear the Old One trampling towards them, the sound of its enormous clawed feet like thunder. With it came that same overpowering stench of decay. They had only moments, if that.

"What are you doing?" Laura asked. Her heart sank as she took in his injuries. His hands were bruised and bleeding, his shoulder in worse shape, the claw marks showing raw and dripping through the ripped denim of his jacket.

Without answering, Sweeney bent over another rock. In the wavering torchlight, he could discern that its pitted surface was covered with carvings. It was large and rather heavy, the perfect size for the purpose he intended. He hefted the stone into the air, his wounded shoulder and sides straining with the effort. And with that, the monster was upon them.

As the behemoth reached for him, Sweeney shouted at Laura: "Don't look!" As if from a great distance, he heard her screaming. The Old One's colossal paws closed around his torso, and he bit back a cry of pain, as he felt two of his ribs snap. It lifted him towards its mouth, facial tentacles writhing back, revealing rows of huge yellowed fangs. Slaver dripped from its jowls, and fell upon him, burning like acid. He tightened his grip on the temple stone, his bloody hands smearing it with red. Closing his eyes, he started to chant. Heat rushed by him, as Laura's torch swept past, striking the creature on the side of the head. It let out an ear-splitting shriek, but refused to drop its prey.

As he chanted, Sweeney felt the relentless will of the Old One, urging him to open his eyes, so it could exert the full force of its terrible mesmerism upon him. Greedy to feed, it dragged him higher, its overpowering breath a fetid mix of sulfur and stagnant water. Gagging, he managed to spit out the last harsh notes of the spell. He opened his eyes, and for just a heartbeat, looked his enemy full in the face. Shouting the final curse, "Ollphéist bhréan, an bhféadfá imeacht gan filleadh!" (Foul monster, may you leave without returning!), he flung the stone down its gullet.

Light flared in a brilliant corona, and the creature was yanked into the air, its massive body twisting and turning, like a deflated balloon. Screeching, it was pulled back towards the portal, helpless to resist the magic. Eyes tightly shuttered, the Irishman could still see the incandescent glare of the opening through his closed lids. He felt himself falling. As the gate closed around him, and he lapsed into unconsciousness, his last thought was of Laura.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Old One has been dragged back to its own dimension, but Sweeney and Laura are not yet out of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILERS: Contains AG S1 and S2 spoilers.
> 
> Ratings / Warnings: Mature 18+ - This chapter features some strong language + references to character death, gore, and past violence. May possibly be triggering.

Surrounded by darkness, he hovered between life and death. Beyond that warm peaceful dusk, he spied the distant mouth of a tunnel, glowing with the most beautiful and perfect light. It beckoned to him, but while he felt the tug of its allure, he hesitated. There was someone waiting for him, someone he couldn't bear to leave behind. Instead, he floated in limbo. And from this safe cocoon, he heard a voice calling his name. Accompanied by the most heart-breaking weeping, the voice echoed all around him. With a little start of recognition, he turned towards it.

"Sweeney, please don't die." Laura cradled his head in her lap, her tears falling upon his upturned face. They caught in his lashes and beard, sparkling like jewels. His complexion was pale, almost waxen. The wounds on his shoulder were deep and ugly, his ripped jacket drenched in blood. The front of her shirt was splattered with it. Easing him off her lap, she gently laid his head on the ground. She bent and pressed her lips to his. They felt cold as ice. Again and again, she breathed air into his mouth, all the while pressing on his chest, frantically trying to revive him. A minute passed, then another. He lay unmoving. Discouraged, she finally stopped, her expression stricken. Her fingers traced the angle of his jaw, lingered over his closed eyelids. "Oh Sweeney," she said brokenly. "I love you. Come back, damn it - Come back to me."

Suddenly, his eyes fluttered open. "L-Laura?" His voice was faint, as if coming from a great distance. It was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard.

"Oh my God, you scared me. I thought you were dead."

"I was, " he replied. "Or nearly so." His eyes met hers, and he gave a lop-sided smile. "You called me back." He tried to sit up, wincing at the pain. "It feels like a fucking truck hit me."

"Take it easy," she cautioned. "You're wounded pretty badly."

Grimacing, the Irishman shifted position, easing himself up. "I think a couple of my ribs are broken," he muttered, glancing around. It was night, but there was just enough moonlight to see by. They were in a filthy alley, paved with rough cobblestones. On either side, the dingy brick walls pressed close. Fog hung in dirty gray streamers, the chill air reeking of garbage and decay. "Where the hell are we?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." As Sweeney lurched awkwardly to his feet, Laura quickly slid her arm around his waist, to lend support. "We're not in Kansas anymore, that's for sure." She remembered her terror, as the massive energy surge had swept them up and hurled them through the gate, right on the heels of the Old One.

"It would seem the portal sent the creature home, but dumped us here."

"That's a good thing, right?"

"Aye - the last place we'd ever want to go is the Old Ones' world." He craned his neck, taking in the sagging rooflines of the buildings. "I wonder what town this is?"

"Well, wherever we are, it's human civilization, so we should be able to find you a doctor." Flashing a big grin, she added, "Hey, look on the bright side - at least we're both still alive and kicking." 

"That we are, lass, that we are." Sweeney leaned down and kissed her. "Let's just hope the residents are friendly." But as they limped towards the entrance of the alley, he had a sinking sensation that this city held dangers of its own. And if so, he'd do whatever it took to ensure that the two of them survived.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously American Gods, and its characters belong to Neil Gaiman, and also to the respective creators / writers of the television series based upon the book, and to Starz network. The Cthulhu Mythos belongs to H.P. Lovecraft. I'm just a devoted fan playing in their sandbox, and make no profit, etc. Please note that any original characters or concepts I've created belong to me.


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